


Dear Diary, I Miss You (a phanfic)

by Sonotemily



Category: Dan Howell - Fandom, Phandom, Phil Lester - Fandom, dan and phil
Genre: Amazingphil - Freeform, DanXPhil, Fanfiction, Gay fic, LGBT, M/M, Phanfiction, danielhowell - Freeform, danisnotonfire - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-01
Updated: 2017-07-19
Packaged: 2018-11-21 19:59:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,446
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11364570
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sonotemily/pseuds/Sonotemily
Summary: Toska (Russian){toss-kah}AdjectiveA dull ache of the soul, a sick pining, a spiritual anguish. In particular cases it may be the desire for somebody of something specific, nostalgia, love-sicknessIt's only everything I've felt since I lost you.{WARNING: Trigger warning, mentions of depression, and suicide}





	1. Entry 1

I'm glad you made me take that Russian Literature class my freshman year of college, because without it I don't think I ever would have found a word to describe my pain.

All I ever feel is toska, Phil.

After you left, I couldn't get rid of it, no matter how hard I tried. It never washed away in the shower -no matter how hard I rubbed at my raw skin, it never vanished after I slept or ate like a headache would, and it never dimmed like a lightbulb burning out. Instead it was like fire in a world made of gasoline; it never extinguished.

Mum thinks that writing in here will help me work through it. It makes me laugh whenever I think about, because she thinks it's something I'm going to be able to work through. Although, if you ask me, I think Dr. Chenning advised her to suggest this task to me.

Mum has moved in with us. Adrian and her took over my room, and I've been in yours ever since you left. I wish they hadn't taken mine, because I know that you'll come back, and then where will I sleep? I wish you would come back already.

I'll never get over you Phil. And I really don't want to either.

I never want to forget our matching haircuts, and how you always got mad whenever I called your hair dark blue -even though it was. Although that blue will never do justice to your eyes, which I always believed were their own oceans, and blue breasted robins, and sapphires that in certain light, reflected the stars of the night sky. You would always tell me that I was the brightest thing in your eyes, but I never believed that I could even begin to compare to the gleam of mischief and the Northern Lights that danced about your irises.

Occasionally you would wear those glasses, which you only wore because when I first saw you in them, was the first time I had ever seen you, and I could barely breathe.

Most nights we would fall asleep with sloppily drawn cat whiskers marked on our rosy cheeks because it was our thing and we looked damn cute doing it. We would always doze in the most uncomfortable of positions on top of the other; whether it be couches, beds, or floors, I didn't care as long as I knew you were safe and there beside me.

Right now I'm curled up under the covers, like I always have since you left, with my dinner plate sitting at the foot of the bed, untouched. I promised myself that I wouldn't eat until you do Phil.

Ever since you left, which is exactly two weeks from today, I've only eaten an apple and some cereal. Mother has been making me drink lots of water because she says that I'm crying so much and eating so little that I'll get dehydrated and die.

It would be less painful than living without you Phil.

I'm terribly hungry, but that's okay. I'll get used to it. Besides, I've been needing to loose a few pounds, and I sure as hell am not going to exercise. It reminds me too much of you.

Remember how you used to exercise with me Phil?

You would always have to help me lift the weights, you would always run alongside me and talk to me, and you would always be there pushing me to do my best. Can you keep a secret Phil? I only pretended to be weaker so you would have to help me. I think you knew though. I wish you could come back and tell me.

I'm wearing your lion hat, and your green sweatshirt. They still smell like you. So does your duvet, and your pillows, and my heart. I wish I wasn't in love with you Phil.

Do you remember the time I had finally beaten you in Mario Karts? Only because you let me of course, which I knew, but I still boasted and danced about the living room. I was too cocky and confident, which I now realize was probably annoying, but you only laughed at me and kissed my head.

That's another thing I don't want to forget: your kisses. They were another thing weren't they? They were toxic, they were addictive, they were beautiful, and they were the only way I've felt euphoria. That's how I knew I loved you; from the time we first kissed. I didn't want to tell you though, I know love is a barbaric and strong word used by writers to kill and make people weak. We had only been together for a month and I didn't want to loose you so soon. I wish I had told you sooner.

I'm too weak to move, so I just lay in your bed all day. My heart is too heavy for my body, so I wallow in my pity and your ghostly presence and weep until I can no more.

So until we reunite again, I'll dream of your arms, and your lips, and your hair, and your legs, and your chest, and your eyes, and falling in love again with you, and the feeling I savored whenever you held me in your warm embrace. I'll dream of your moans, and your laughs, and your giggles, and the sound of your love. And I'll try to recall these every day as realistic as possible so I won't have live off of distant, painful memories captured in a photograph to remember the way your jaw felt rested on my shoulder and the way that your body curved and dipped like mountains and valleys.

I can't forget about you Phil.

Don't you see why I don't want to get over you? There's simply too much to forget about and it would be nearly impossible to do so.

Mum's coming again. She's going to try to get me to move again. I promise that I won't budge until you return.

I wish you'd come home Phil.


	2. Entry 2

I cut myself again Phil. 

I did it for you. 

I did it because I hoped that maybe you would hear my screams and come back to me, but you didn't. Maybe I'll run out of blood one of these times; that'll make me happier than life without you.

I did it when Mum was out with Adrian, that way they wouldn't hear me crying and screaming your name until my throat was raw. I don't want her to know about my pain, because then she'll make me see Dr. Channing more, and he might make me forget you Phil. 

I don't want to forget you. 

Adrian says he misses you too. He told me that he had been watching your old videos and how happy I was with you. He claimed that he missed seeing me that way, and that I was never as cheerful as I was when I was with you. He said it hurts him to see me hurting for you. 

If we both hurt, will you come back Phil? I wish you would already. 

Your brother came over today. He was nice, he just asked if he could take some of your things with him. I tried to stop him, but he took a few of them Phil. Maybe you can persuade him to give them back when you return. 

If you do return...

He took some clothes, besides the ones I had hidden and the ones I was wearing. He also took some of the knick-knacks laying about your room. Nothing too special I suppose, but it felt like even more of you was being torn from me. I didn't like the feeling. 

Dr. Chenning says that I'm overreacting when I tell him this. He doesn't care about how I feel about you leaving. He's too focused on making me "better" and back to my "old self", but I know that it'll only happen when you come back to me. I do hope it's soon Phil. 

It's torture without you. I still haven't moved, I still haven't ate, I still haven't stopped aching and missing you. The cutting doesn't do much, but it does help the pain a little bit. I hope you come back, but I'm scared that if you do, the pain might only get worse. 

I guess it'd be worth it though; having you back. 

Mum's getting angry at me. She's mad that I won't eat, she's mad that I won't get out of bed, and she's mad that I love you the way I do. She says that nobody should love somebody this way, but I do, and it hurts like living hell. 

She just doesn't understand us Phil. She tells me you're never coming back, but only because she's never felt love the way we have. I believe you will come back someday. Won't you?

I found a book of us under the bed today. After I got done cleaning my wrists I had gone snooping in your room. I do hope you don't mind. It's really lovely, you should have shown me it before you left. I especially like the entry you wrote from the day we first met. It was a lovely day that was. 

And I absolutely loved the photograph of you and me in Japan. The story you wrote below it was brilliant Phil, out of all the degrees you have I'm surprised that writing isn't one of them. 

Oh Phil! I saw you on the news today! You were in the back just standing there. I tried to call to you, but you didn't answer me. It doesn't matter though, I know you love me and that's all I need to know. 

You do love me; don't you?

I noticed a lot of things today Phil. Since I actually moved a bit, I noticed some things that made me want to feel your body again and crawl under the covers once more. I wanted to burrow myself and hide from reality and didn't want to face the truth. The truth hurts; it really does Phil. 

I suppose I hadn't noticed it before, but when I emerged from the bathroom and started to make way back to the bed where I was planning on crying myself to sleep again, I noticed that your bed seemed bigger. It didn't feel right seeing it like this. It looked so empty and desolate, like my heart right now Phil. 

I wish you'd come back. 

There are other terrible things I noticed today too. 

Actually it wasn't just today, it started last night when mother forgot to turn off my light after she left. I started calling for you, and asking you repeatedly to turn it off so I could sleep. 

But you never came, and you never did. 

So I kept the light on. 

That night, it was the first time I had noticed just how quiet your room was. It was almost as if every object in the room absorbed sound as soon as it was emitted. I didn't have to ask you to stop laughing at your phone every five minutes, and I didn't have to wake you up to complain to you about your snoring and cuddle into your side. 

You'd be proud of me Phil; I got out of the room today. I even drank some tea. That's where I noticed the other thing. 

If you don't return to me, I'll never drink tea with you again. And then when it hit me that I may never see you again, I dropped my cup and the hot liquid spread rapidly across the flooring and the delicate china shattered with a crash into a hundred pieces. You weren't there to tell me to be careful, or help me across and clean it up, so I walked across it all in my bare feet. It didn't hurt as much as losing you, but it does hurt to walk now. I bled a lot Phil. But it's okay because you'll come back and heal me. 

Remember how we always drank tea as part of our morning ritual? I would start the water and you would grab the sugar and the cups. And while I retrieved the tea bags you would pour the water. Afterwards we would just giggle at each other across the table and sip on our tea. A lot of times, your foot would "accidentally" brush against mine and it felt like I had been electrocuted. Then one of your blue eyes would wink at me, and even though they were icy I would melt into a puddle at your feet. 

We loved each other so much Phil; why did you leave?

I miss your touch Phil. I miss you. I wish so hard every night that you'll return. But you never do. Why don't you Phil?

Maybe you're just too frightened to return. Maybe you think that I'll hate you. I could never hate you Phil. I'll always be waiting for your return, please make it soon. I don't know how much longer I can make it without you. 

It's been nearly three weeks since you left me. 

It hurts Phil. 

It really hurts me. The way you don't answer my calls, the way you don't return to me, the way that everybody says I'm turning psychotic because I love you so much, the way that you left without a goodbye, and the possibility that I'll never see you again. It hurts when I start to think about it. I don't like thinking about it but I have to. Because if I stop thinking about it, then I'll forget about you and I can't let that happen. 

It hurts so goddamn much. No, it doesn't just hurt. It burns like toska. It abuses me with spiked whips every night; it's like drinking acid endlessly; it feels like my skin is being peeled off layer by layer with no stopping, and then my organs are gorged out for your pleasure. It burns like being stuck naked in a cage made of thorns with no door. It was as if you slit my wrists open with your sweet touch, cut off my oxygen off with your world-stopping kiss, then set me ablaze with the love you said you'd never stop giving me. 

That's what it feels without you Phil. It lives inside me and makes its home in the void of my heart where you're supposed to stand. 

I wish you would come back and take it away Phil. It scares me. 

I wish you'd come back.


End file.
